Second Parade
by Ryocha
Summary: A collection of oneshots, drabbles and character sketches centering around the events of Code Geass R1&R2. Het, BL, and GL included. Lelouch, C.C., Suzaku, Rollo, Kallen, Xing-ke, Tianzi, Gino, Anya, Viletta, Ougi, Schneizel, Kanon
1. Shadow in the Sunset

**Shadows in the Sunset  
**_By: Ryocha_

The sun was to set early today, Rollo reminded himself with a hint of sadness.

He stopped running, slowing down to a walking pace. The landscape of Ashford looked beautiful at twilight, the path folding out in front of the young teenager shone a luminescent yellow that contrasted with the sharp pink hues that tinted the grass like a warm gradient. A little ways off, behind a row of well-kept oak trees, was the villa Rollo shared with his brother Lelouch. It too shone a faint yellow and pink from the sun setting in the east. Rollo shivvered suddenly. Despite the warm look to the land, the wind was a strong, cold breeze that detered what beauty the scenery offered to the young assasin.

It has been four months, three days, twenty-three hours and thirty six minutes since Rollo became Lelouch's surrogate brother. The sandy-haired teen made sure to keep track of this time frame because he felt it was important to him. He had been unsure of the mission from the get-go, but instead had eased into the roll of the little brother almost naturally within the first month, and now was inseperable from his cunning, older brother.

This emotion he held with him as he walked a slow pace towards home, a thick black jacket making his thin legs look awkward underneith the heavy mass of his upper body, had him in its confining grasp. He didn't like this feeling one bit, the feeling of being cornered and fragile which made his disposition around Lelouch's friends even more unlikeable. He'd have to kill them all one day; why make it harder for himself?

Deep in thought, he looked up. The depressing haze left his mind and his vision became crystal clear. The front door had a lithe body resting its weight on its right hip and an amused expression on its face being directed to the cold, shivvering Rollo.

"Hey," Lelouch called out, "Supper is ready. I was about to set a plate aside for you if you had come home five minutes later." He turned to go inside, but spoke softly over his shoulder, "You shouldn't stay out so late, regardless of your tutouring. Come inside quickly."

Rollo dully noted that he had passed the row of oak trees in front of his house, and cursed himself for getting lost in thought so easily. With the urgency of a hot supper in mind, he began running for the door, which had been left ajar for him to close when he went inside his home.

His home.

He knew he shouldn't feel happy over such meaningless words. But such liberties needed to be taken time and time again. He would keep on running despite the ache in his heart when he'll eventually kill the brother he has come to love.

Rollo hopes, with a hint of eagerness in his thoughts, that he would never have to come down to that decision in his life.

He closes the door to his home with Lelouch.  
Trapped inside the warm, deceitful lie he has come to believe as an act of love.

-OWARI


	2. Discord in the Garden

**Discord in the Garden  
**_By: Ryocha_

There was a gunshot; the birds flew from the trees in a mess of black blotches as I dove headfirst into the ground, my skull connecting with the stone path with a sickening crack. The shot, originally aimed at my neck, had missed and sailed over the fence at speeds my eyes could not follow and landed someway over into the next lot.

My assailant held no remorse in his eyes as he lowered the shining pistol, unphased by my reaction. His eyes were black, pitch black, and were drawing me into their dark void. I felt myself getting lost, or perhaps - as I looked down at the crimson stain on the stones - there were other reasons why I felt myself slowly being lost to the darkness.

Two long, striding steps and his shadow was casted over my crippled body. All around us, there were roses. They were just recently planted, but had become accustomed to the landscape quickly and had overgrown in such a short period of time. I only took note of this now as he reloads his gun while being framed by the dieing sunset, because I thought it would be nice to think of something pleasant despite the pain in my head and the dieing breathe on my lips. Everything suddenly felt very cold to the touch as I heard his gun click, and I froze.

The assailant bent down on one knee and observed me with pursed lips, the gun momentarily relaxing in his gloved hands. He wore the uniform of a Rounds, I realized with sudden horror, and wondered why someone of such high status had gone and wasted a bullet on my frail form.

…Who was I again?

The question was still on my lips when he put the gun to my forehead.  
A flash of remorse, perhaps even regret, crossed his face.  
Those eyes never left mine.  
He pulled the trigger.  
Zero seconds left.

* * *

Lelouch awoke with a strangled yelp lodged in his throat. His hands clutched the angelic white sheets that lay around his shaking body in gathered crumples. His eyes were wide in horror and his breath was coming in ragged pants. Somewhere in the mess of sheets and comforters, Rollo stirred.

It wasn't a premonition. It was a reflection of emotions, he concluded, still shaken by the realistic nightmare. C.C. had warned him that as his Geas contract went on, he would begin to see the people he will kill in the future in his dreams. He thought it a far-fetched lie, but apparently it was true. He couldn't remember the face of his killer, however.

His hands shook as he smoothed out the bedsheets, then moved to tuck himself back to sleep.

Those images, he concluded with a shaking inner voice, were nothing but lies. The area which the dream took place was unidentifiable; a mix of buildings and people were blurred into one reality.

He couldn't quite remember the details anymore, but he knew one thing.

There were roses.

His violet eyes – glazed due to the heavy need to fall back asleep – closed and remembered the days where he and Suzaku would play in the thick back woods, in a little area where the roses would grow.

His eyes shot open.

_The roses._

He screamed.

-OWARI


	3. A Kiss Once Regretted

**A Kiss Once Regretted**  
_By: Ryocha_

At school, Kallen was indifferent. She was a girl who preffered to stay quiet and out of the spotlight for the most part, except when Millay decided to include her in any activities the school council was enacting on the poor student body.

At work, Kallen was strong and opinionated. When she wanted something done, she got it done no matter the costs or consequences involved. Rather, she saw it as a worthwhile gamble that needed to happen once in a while to spice up her mundane work outside of the Black Knights. She had to keep herself in check though – one slip-up could cause her to lose her cover.

This gamble, however, she believed was worth every speck of money she had ever put on the line in her life.

* * *

The humming of the computers seemed deafening between us. I didn't mind it, though. It made for a perfect moodsetter as I tilted my head up and kissed you.

You seem shocked; I smirked smugly.

Even the mighty Zero can be brought to his knees by the kiss of a girl, it seems.

-OWARI


	4. Ctrl Alt Delete

**Ctrl Alt Delete  
**_By: Ryocha_

Pale legs were languidly thrown over the arm of a tall computer chair as the young girl inside the chair spun in a slow hypnotic circle as she waited patiently for a reply from her computer. Her eyes were unfocused and far seeing. They watched the ceiling fan with little interest, her mind streun elsewhere.

A beep suddenly eminated from her computer.

A socked foot stopped her spinning and then, lazily, she slid upwards, crossing exposed legs inside the confines of the maroon chair. She tugged the spaghetti strap of her tank top back into place, and squinted at the screen. She stopped in mid-motion of scratching her neck as she finished reading her blog comment.

**Cooldude8069: **'_Lol wut gay photos u have u shud buy a better phone. they all bluury n shit lol u need sumtin like my phone, its real good lol"_

Ruby eyes narrowed. Her mouth drew a firm line across her taut features. An unexplainable anger was building up inside her thin body, she could feel it in her chest cavity. Down the hall, past the open door of her quarters, a familiar voice yelled her name faintly and was promptly ignored.

Slim fingers pulled the keyboard forward, and fingerpads hovered over the keys, as though preparing to play a piano masterpiece in front of an audience. She took in a deep breath, all of her thoughts and emotions rushing through her head and concentrated them into a fine point. Her eyes shone eerily in the low-lit room. She began typing furiously, fingers dancing as though possesed. She chuckled lowly. Softly. Surely.

* * *

"Anyaaa!" Gino called out, his cheerful voice ringing out down the long, metallic hallway and echoeing back to him. No response. He could clearly see the inside of his fellow Knight's room at the end of the hall, the desklight casting formidable, dark shadows across the floor and wall. No other lights were turned on in her room, from what he could tell as he squinted his eyes.

A shapely blond eyebrow was raised in question. Gino poked his equally blond head around the corner of the doorframe and peered inside. At first, he was taken aback at the sight before him. But then, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand, groaning. He caught her during her 'time'.

"Anya." He stated her name flatly, and yet no response. After a minute, her clear voice was heard over the soft tapping.

"I'm finished Gino, there's nothing here to worry about."

_Then say so,_ he thought with quiet irritation.

Bringing himself up to full height, the Knight of Three strode into the small room with purpose behind his step, for he stopped just before the small pink-haired girl, leaned forward and placed a hand on her slight shoulders with all the seriousness of a parent catching their child doing something illegal.

"What were you doing?" He asked, curiosity and slight horror hidden in his purposeful tone.

"Nothing."

"Mhmm, the last time you said that you ate my cheesecake and didn't tell me."

"It's nothing Gino." _Short and straight to the point, as usual._ Gino thought with a smirk. He loved a challenge.

"Tell me."

Anya seemed to ponder her options momentarily, for her eyes were cast downward and then quickly upward. She spun around in her chair, knocking Gino's hand off her shoulder, and pointed at the screen with a pout.

"There." She said. The taller man had to bend forward to see, resting an arm on Anya's chair in the process as he mouthed out the words on screen. Once finished, he sat there, dumstruck. Silence filled in around the pair like an uncomfortable blanket, to which Gino was only too happy to break with a nervous cough. It was worse than what he'd thought.

"So, let me get this straight." He started, poking his lower lip, his brows frowning.

"Yes."

"You crashed his computer?"

"And wiped his hardrive."

"Over a comment he made on your blog?"

"Yes." She spoke as though it made all the sense in the world. Gino facepalmed.

"Anya… what would happen if someone found out?" The tiny girl in front of him was beginning to make less and less sense, for she began talking in her quiet voice about all the ways she had made sure there were no traces on his computer whatsoever that she had been there. She cocked her head up at him when she was finished, absently wondering how his bangs were able to stick up at such an angle when his face was planted in his palm like that.

"Anya." He sure liked saying her name today.

"Yes?"

"You… can't just go and do that every time someone flames you." He began, unsure of where to lead the conversation, and instead drabbled in and out of ideas that happened to catch his interest for a minute. She followed every word he said, nodding in appropriate places, but it was clear that she was doing it just to get it over with.

"So, um. Don't do it." He finished awkwardly, looking away. "Or else I'll take away your computer."

Anya's eyes suddenly became sharp, precise, jabbing. "What?" Her voice cut the air like a knife.

Gino jumped in his boots and fidgetted. "N-Nothing…"

Behind their aloof exterior, Anya ruled over Gino with an iron fist.


	5. Something Amiss

**Something Amiss**  
_By: Ryocha_

There was something wrong with the day, C.C. thought as she frowned at her slice of pizza as though it was the source of her misery. The day was off, something was amiss. Whether it be the clouds outside that detered the sun's warm embrace over the land, or the sudden chill that had entered the luscious bedroom, the green-haired women wasn't quite sure what to blame first for her misfortune.

She observed the room she was in with little interest. Everything was where it should be; she often nagged Lelouch for being a neat freak, and he would scoff at her and mutter an insult under his breath, not wanting to waste any effort on her being so early in the morning. No, the morning was not to blame for this feeling, she concluded while nibbling on the crust of her finished pizza slice.

She had wandered around the home, around eleven o'clock, making sure nothing was wrong or meddled with. Again, everything was where it should have been. Rollo stopped by briefly for lunch, saying something incoherant to her about forgetting his food at home. The boy was always very jittery around her, and quite frankly she didn't care. So long as he treated her with respect (as forced and fearing as it was) they were on good terms. The boy could atleast understand that much about their relationship, she thought dryly.

It had been nearing two in the afternoon, and it was then that C.C. noticed that the sun had decided to hide itself behind a thick mass of nimbus clouds. They loomed over the city, dark and omnious, but never let a single drop of rain hit the ground. Instead, they sailed over with precise interest elsewhere and dumped their water over the downtown area, missing the residential district completely.

Maybe she had wanted it to rain, maybe she hadn't. As she lay back over the bed, spreading her bare legs against the silky sheets, she wondered why she bothered to think so much about her own emotions when at this point, they were quite useless. Nothing good came from deep thinking.

At that moment, she heard something. She at first was frozen, idly listening to the low growl that shook the room. It hung in the air for a few seconds, and then left as fast as it had come.

C.C. sighed. She was so predictable sometimes. The source of her misery had been found.

"More pizza is in order, then."


	6. In Losing, We Win

**In Losing, We Win**  
_By: Ryocha_

"Oh come on, Shirley! It'll be fun, trust me!"

"Millay, I don't approve of what you're doing to me! L-Let me go!"

"Nonsense, hun; you're too cute sometimes! Just hold still…"

"Ah…"

Rivalz shot a look towards Lelouch. Lelouch looked away idly, trying to find something to amuse himself with down the hallway.

"…Should we go in?" The blue-haired teen sounded all too eager to barge into what could only be Millay enacting her pervert nature on Shirley yet again. Lelouch coughed, trying to push past memories out of his head upon drawing his conclusion.

"Of course not." He paused, another moan came from inside the room, and "They're… busy." He was trying not to imagine what was going on inside the room, but his horomones were working wonders on their own accord, and quite frankly he didn't mind.

"Aren't you jealous though?"

"Of course not."

"So you enjoy it?"

The raven-haired man coughed nervously, closing violet eyes. "No." His voice pleaded for the conversation to end.

"So what are we supposed to do now, then? We need to get in there to get the cleaning supplies."

"We'll wait." Logic was Lelouch's forte, and in many situations, it got him and his friends through many embaressing situations.

However, standing outside of a closed door, while knowing very well what was going on inside, had to be the first loss Lelouch had ever taken under his name.

A soft, breathy moan passed through the closed door and sent shivvers down both boys' spines.

Lelouch decided, perhaps more to himself than anyone else as he continued to listen and daydream, that sometimes, losing loopholed to winning more than he'd ever imagine.


	7. Juliet Without a Romeo

**Juliet Without a Romeo**  
_By: Ryocha_

Awoken from another war-torn nightmare, Viletta Nu strode down a deserted hallway with little reason going through her head, only knowing that wherever she was going, it was somewhere better than her bedroom. Her hands, cold to the touch, clutched her elbows for heat and comfort. Her steps were shaky and her legs felt bare with only a thin nightgown on. She cursed her lack of common sense to bring a housecoat with her.

She turned a corner sharply, almost hitting it in the process, and continued on. Her mind swam with watery images from her dream that seemed all too real to her at the moment. She bit her lower lip and shook her head, her silver hair upheaved from its protective wrap around her bare shoulders. It slid to her waste, where it played against her bare thighs like soft fingers carressing the sleek surface.

_He_ had been in that dream. She closed her eyes, picturing his face. He was smiling at her, slightly unsure of what to say. His eyes were earnest; her hand was in his. There was a ring. And then there were gunshots.

Viletta opened her eyes, wanting only to break away from her dream. Cool air met her from the front, and her eyes watered, whether because of the swelling emotions in her bosom or the sting of the sharp wind, she did not know. She let the tears fall down her face as she walked out onto the open balcony. She was in the mess hall of the mansion of a lesser lord of Area 11; she had been attending his party only five hours ago, but the warm atmosphere had left and now only a cool wind and prancing shadows filled the hall with a sense of dread, the kind only reserved for mystery novels.

Viletta leaned over the stone balcony and looked out into the miserable ocean. Far off, there was the rumble of thunder. To her left, and far below, was a deer grazing near a cliff. She wondered what it was doing up at such an hour. She watched it for a while, wondering what Jeremiah would think of her like this. Her nightgown was far too reveiling for her to be walking around in. She was aware of how her breasts met the stone railing, how they moved and fell out of the chiffon as she shifted her arms and hands from one cheek to the next, resting her weight on them.

She didn't care. Her mind was elsewhere, toying with the distant past and the upcoming future. She fingered her strap as she thought, unaware of the person below the balcony who moved with the stealth of someone from the Black Knights.

* * *

"Skull 2 here, ready to position the bombs." Ougi whispered into the receiver he held in his hands. He was aware of how his body shook like a leaf and how he could feel the wind on the back of his neck because of the pooling sweat near the baby hairs. His breathing was rough, he jumped at the tiniest sound, and he was fully aware of how underhanded his mission was.

He scanned the area, squinting black eyes to make sure no one was in the vincinity. Nobody; the well kept grounds around the seaside mansion were clear. He didn't bother looking up to the second floor, perhaps out of forgetfulness, for he would have taken note of the perfect body of a female outlined by the moonlight, who was well aware of his arrival.

"Who's there?" He had been spotted! Ougi fell into the looming shadow of the mansion with haste, crouching down and hoping she didn't see him completely. He wasn't wearing his Black Knights uniform, so hopefully he would be passed off as a simple burgler. He hastily pressed a set of buttons on his receiver for backup.

He didn't dare look up. He knew that a woman from the upper balcony had spotted him, but he didn't dare to check to see who it was.  
He already knew it was Chigusa.

Demon possesed, he cracked an eye open. At first, all he saw was finely trimmed grass. His eyes dragged upward. Polished windows. Stone balcony. Gargoyles encripted into stone. Lean thighs. A soft nightgown, barely covering the essential areas. He brought his eyes back down immediately.

"…Ougi…" Her voice, barely audible from where he was, sounded pained and regretful at the same time.

He brought his eyes upward to meet hers. Her eyes shone a soft gold in the moonlight, and he was drawn into them. He couldn't break away. He felt his legs move on their own, and he stood up, removing himself from the shelter of the shadows.

* * *

Why was he here? He wasn't wearing his Black Knights uniform, but regardless she knew he was still working under them. Her voice, upon whispering his name out of shock, had died and she was left silent, perplexed, confused.

She realized her breasts were exposed, glistening in the humid seaside air, but for some reason she felt no obligation to cover them. She wanted to feel exposed, wanted him to see them. He had already regardless, but she wanted him to see her like this.

She watched on as he raised himself from the shadows, an unidentifiable expression on his face. He was always like that. She didn't know what he was thinking. But his eyes were locked with hers, and it made her feel secure, for he was looking at her, not her body – it was something she felt unsure of, almost intimidated by. She moved with grace to the ledge closest to him, her eyes never breaking with his.

* * *

Ougi remembers being a teacher. He remembers one year in perticular when he introduced his wide-eyed class of grade 10 students to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. He remembered the boys in the class groaning at the prospect of reading a love story, and he remembered the girls giggling amongst themselves as he explained the premise of the play.

"_Have you ever related to the play, teacher?" One boy asked with curly brown hair._

_Ougi chuckled, "No, I'm afraid not."_

He would have to tell that student otherwise the next time he saw him. Chigusa perching on the edge of the balcony while he stood dumbstruck by her beauty below; it reminded him of that memory, of the play, and he smiled as the warm nostalgia washed over him. Up above, thinking that the smile was for her, Viletta blushed and moved her arms to cover her bare chest.

Around the front of the mansion, a voice was heard. It sounded urgent.

"I have to get going." He stated simply, making sure she heard him clearly.

Dread filled her. But she dared not to show it. "I know. Get out of here before I get any second thoughts." She made sure her voice was cold. Ougi smiled in return, as if ignorant.

He raised a hand, waved her goodbye, and ran off into the skirting forest. The bomb had been put into place. His job was done. But Ougi couldn't help but feel remorseful. He took one last look over his shoulder. She was still watching him.

Both of them thought the very same thing at that very moment.

_This is how it will always be for us._

-OWARI


	8. Transcendance

**Transcendance  
**_By: Ryocha_

_The body looks too square_, Xing-ke thought with malice. His eyes conveyed this emotion intently as he stared at the tiny drawing on the paper as though it was the source of his misery. The drawing stared back at him. It gave him a stupid lopsided grin. Xing-ke grinded his teeth at it.

"Xing-ke," the pointed face of Empress Tianzi showed confusion as she spoke, carefully choosing her words, "Have you finished your drawing yet?" She fidgetted with the cuffs of her flowing gown, poised perfectly on the edge of a redwood chair.

He cursed under his breath, "I'm sorry, Empress. Not yet. It won't be long now." He waved his hand above his head to usher her back into her seat, for she had made a motion to stand up. He stared at the drawing, positioned on his lap, and felt a pang of misery stab him when he realized it didn't look anything like her. The robes she wore, imperial and rich with soft reds, yellows and a striking gold sash, lay over her porcelain skin in a way that Xing-ke found impossible to express in his drawing. Despite her beauty, she was posed stiffly on the chair, her expression a mix of nervousness and aggitation.

He sighed, leaned back and brushed his bangs out of his eyes with a swipe of his left hand. "Empress," he adressed, and she sparked to attention, "May I request that we have a break and continue drawing later? You look tired."

Her eyes sparkled, her taut mouth widened and she smiled softly, nodded and lept off the chair as though she had been waiting for him to say those very words for a long time. He chuckled at her excited expression, standing to meet her with an extended hand. She took it without question, and their eyes locked. She smiled kindly to him; "We can eat together, if you want. The viziers won't mind."

He nodded, silent. She smiled, understanding him. The bond between the two of them could be so easy to comprehend, but so hard to keep together.

They walked off together, out of the gazebo, and into an empty hallway. No one was to question them on their way to their unknown destination.


	9. Post It

A/N: Thanks to all those that have reviewed and have given me constructive criticism! I really appreciate it; your words are what drive me to continue this drabble fic. :3 I appolagize for any past grammatical errors; I've been going back and fixing some of them, but I can't spot all of them, it seems. If you're willing to be my beta for this fic, just drop me a line in a review and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

* * *

**Post It**  
_By: Ryocha_

Tamaki finding a suspicious yellow package one morning while doing patrol had been a fluke, but a fluke that went and started a series of annoying events to which, to this very day, he denies ever happened. He would rather eat grass than admit that the witch of a woman, C.C., had outsmarted him, once again, at his own game.

The day had started innocently enough; Tamaki woke up late, got heckled by his colleagues for his laziness and proceeded to get out of bed around ten o'clock. He hadn't shaved nor washed since the day before, and took his time in the bathroom as per usual doing whatever he did. Everyone was used to Tamaki in the morning, the kind of Tamaki that liked dragging his feet and waking up around one in the afternoon. Any time before that turned the usually laid-back man into a beast among beasts.

It reached one o'clock; the sun was high in the sky and was being merciless to the Black Knights below, who tied their uniform jackets around their wastes as they worked to avoid being roasted. Tamaki was no where to be seen in the bustle of people loading the ship, so Ougi was sent out to find him.

Not surprisingly enough, Tamaki had gone back to bed, his head buried underneith his pillow while snoring loudly. Having no patience for the man, Ougi took a glass of cold water and dumped it down his shirt and promptly left. The sleeping man slept no more; instead he shrieked and cursed the devil on Ougi for being so cruel.

"It's even more cruel," his eyes narrowed at Tamaki, slightly, "When we lose manpower because _someone_ is being a lazy."

That woke him up. Ougi was never one to get mad easily, and to make him even glower at Tamaki meant that you did something you weren't supposed to do. Brushing back spiked red hair, Tamaki finally put himself to use and joined the morning patrol, much to the disgust of the other men and women. It was a dull job overall; all you did was walk around with a gun and go back to the base after three hours. No one was stupid enough, nor smart enough, to find the place and then be able to breach the ten-layer security system that was set up around the perimeter of the base. They were untouchable, but Zero insisted they put men out behind the tenth layer because "man power will always be able to outlast technology" or something stupid like that. Tamaki didn't bother to listen to the details. He knew it was dumb, no matter what fancy words their leader used to describe his job.

"He just likes to make things fancy with big words and stuff," he told his patrol partner. She gave him a disgusted look, but kept silent. Her hold on her gun became tight and rigid.

"I see something." The gun was raised, and she bent her knees and prepared to fire. Tamaki gave her a dumb look.

"Whatcha getting' so worked up over?" He asked her matter-of-factly. She didn't respond, and continued to stare out onto the black horizon, a faint red exit sign at the far end of the hallway the only thing providing sufficient light. To Tamaki's right, there was darkness, where only dimmed pools of light from above provided a soft gleem of life inside the usually empty hallway. It was a narrow hallway to begin with, with no doors or windows – their base was underground and all – and the metal pannels provided no cover for anyone who was stupid enough to make their way down into the base.

But all this logic was thrown aside as Tamaki fumbled with the flashlight attached to his belt. It clicked on with a curse and the entire hallway was illuminated. Sitting dead center in the middle of the hall, no further from them than ten meters, was a suspicious, small yellow package.

It dumbfounded both of them. The flashlight lowered to make a flared spotlight on the floor in front of Tamaki, and the girl narrowed her eyes and moved forward, cautious.

"Careful, beautiful. Don't want to hurt yourself, do you?" Tamaki called after her. She scoffed at him over her shoulder and spat at his shoes.

The package was brought back with little difficulty to Ougi, who now observed it on the table in front of him. A ring of Black Knight's members circled the table and stared on in fascination and uneasiness, their matching black coats only off-centered by Ougi's traditional chocolate trenchcoat. Beside him, Tamaki complained about wanting to see what was inside, and was promptly ignored and told they needed to wait for orders from Zero.

"It's not like he's gonna care!" The impatient man whined, ruffling his hair with his hand. Ougi bit back his rebuke and sighed, long and tediously. "It was found inside our base, and none of the members have laid claims on it being theirs. Until someone claims it, or until Zero gives us the go-ahead, we cannot touch this package whatsoever." He took this moment to look up and lock eyes with Tamaki. His glare pierced what flimsy retort Tamaki was about to make, "So do _not_ touch it in any way. Do not meddle with it; do not even look at it. Do you understand?"

_Ougi's a beast today_, the cowardly redhead thought meagerly.

But even with a warning of that magnitude, Tamaki still had a kindled interest in opening the package to see what was inside. Nothing was ticking, so it couldn't be a bomb. Drugs or some type of poision gas was plausible - but yet again, at the rate he was going at, he was going to die an early death anyway. There was nothing to lose, but something to gain.

It was late at night when he decided to open it. The lights were turned off, the censors were down; it was the perfect time for a midnight sneak. Tamaki had to put his hand over his mouth to hide his grin as he sleuthed down the hallway, towards the boardroom. He checked behind him every few minutes to make sure that no one was following him.

The door was unlocked, much to the surprise of Tamaki. He reminded to give himself a pat on the back for his good luck. He creeped inside and shut the door behind him, grinning all the while. The room was dark, and a husky odour hung heavy in the tiny room and almost made the sleuthing man choke.

Suddenly, a soft, low laugh broke the silence. Tamaki froze; was it the enemy? Had he fallen for a trap that Ougi had set up for him? His hands went for his gun, but the holster was empty. He panicked; he couldn't see a thing in the dark, and with a shrilly cry, he jumped up and scrambled helplessly for the lights.

"Who the hell is there?!" He tried to sound angry - even brave - but it was an attempt that only served to prove his cowardice though his crackling voice. The lights flickered on. Tamaki stood dumbstruck, hands clawing the wall, his eyes wide.

Silence.

"You really are a dumb man, aren't you?" C.C. sat loftly on the table, her body thrown back, her legs crossed. A pizza was in her hand that she toyed with lazily in her mouth. Her eyes shone eerily in the light as she observed him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. If Tamaki weren't so preoccupied with getting his bearings, he would have thought that she had looked hot sitting there on the table.

He fell to his knees, still clutching the wall. C. C. moved her legs and crossed one over her knee. She licked a shrimp clean of its oily blanket with an expert tongue. "Get up, it's pathetic to see a man looking like that. On his knees, no less."

"Hey!" His voice cracked, sounding weak. C.C. laughed, soft and hollow. "Trying to justify yourself? No matter." She unfolded her legs in one smooth motion and slid off the table with grace. In her hand was the yellow package, its wrapping neatly undone. Tamaki's jaw slackened.

"Y-You weren't supposed to…"

"You were going to do it anyway. Because you know why?" She brought her arm back, and then reeled it forward, throwing the package so it landed in front of the man's limp body.

"It was yours. Honestly, you should have laid a claim on it." A lock of green hair was pushed back behind a pale, curved ear. C.C. waited for Tamaki's rebuke, but it never came, and her eyes gleemed more than ever in the dim light, "But it's you. I shouldn't have raised my hopes up so high."

She walked past him, her white boots clicking against the tiled floor as she passed, and then she paused in mid-step. Two clicks from her boots. She bent down in front of him suddenly, and Tamaki was well aware of how her hand felt against his collarbone, how smooth it was compared to his own. She smiled coyly, he stared on dumbly. Several seconds passed. Her stare was penetrating his defenses. If only he could do the same to her. She was only a few inches away, how could he resist?

But she got up, dusted off her knees and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Foolish." She left the boardroom, the clicks from her boots fading off into the distance as she stode down the deserted hallway, a proud smile on her lips.

Tamaki sat on the floor, staring off into space. What had he just missed? What joke had she said that made her laugh, but not him? He didn't get it. He slumped his head forward, thinking things through. Once he came to his conclusion – he needed an ice-cold shower worthy of an Alaskan – he got up and made a move to leave.

The yellow box caught the corner of his eye. It was his all along, but he never remembered wrapping it in such a ugly colour of paper. He sighed, and picked it up. Glanced inside, and he felt his blood boil. Inside, there were crumbs of some type of food. A single post-it note lay stuck on the bottom of the box.

'The pizza was great. Needs more tobasco sauce though; get some next time. – C.C,'

The box began crumbling under his grip. He could feel blood beginning to pool on his tongue from biting it so hard.

That… that woman… she ate his pizza.

"BITCH! YOU'LL PAY, YOU HEAR?! BIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!"

* * *

"Achoo!"

Lelouch looked up from his novel with a quirked eyebrow. He paused, and spoke carefully, "I didn't know witches could sneeze."

"Be quiet." C.C. huffed and crossed her arms, turning away. She strode over to the lavished bed, rich with blood red and lemon yellow fabric, and spread across it like a cat. Reaching above her head as she arched her back, she thought of the arrogant red-haired man that she had just finished teasing. Her fingers toyed with the golden tassles of a nearby pillow. He reminded her of someone. Someone special, someone far away. Her mouthed pursed as her memories came over her, and she kissed the tassle in sweet rememberance. He was too much like _him_.

"…Idiot."

"Hm?" Lelouch was perked to attention again, seated on his leather couch. His violet eyes, narrowed slightly at her, were full of questions.

"Nothing." C.C. rolled over onto her stomach, and observed the velvet pillow with sad eyes. She won't answer those questions today. Perhaps tommorow.

Perhaps never.

-OWARI


	10. What it Means

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Life has been biting at my heels and forced me to delay this oneshot. Ever since hearing Kanons' pun directed at Millay (I am Prince Schneizel's aid, publicly and privately) I've been itching to take a shot at a different, more private look at their relationship. Hope you all enjoy it!_

* * *

**What it Means**_  
By: Ryocha_

The sun was low on the horizon by the time Kanon Maltini finished preparing his Princes' bedroom. The bay windows, opened wide to let in the salty sea air, gave a glorious view of the lapping ocean below. To the far right, a tiny pasture full of cows and bulls were grazing peacefully on a jagged cliffside, letting the people who stayed at the luxurious Dover Towers know that they were still on land. The view, which expanded over the glistening ocean, made it seem as though they were drifting away into a presteen nothingness, never to be heard of again.

The Ring of Fire around the distant sun, barely gracing the edges of the sparkling clear ocean, jutted out into the sky dramatically and set everything aglow. The sky directly above the Dover Towers however remained a stark blue, and everything in between was a soft blend of the two radical colours that reflected themselves in the sparse, fluffy clouds above.

The view was perfect, _but not perfect enough for Prince Schneizel_, Kanon mused as he leaned over the stone balcony.

He walked back inside the hotel room and double checked everything to make sure it was where it should be. Small candles were lit and placed on top of the dresser, the night table, and a few larger, sturdier ones were placed on the oak floors. The bed was made with rich reds and a deep golden embroidery covering it. Kanon smiled at his work, tucking both his flimsy strands of hair that lay before his ears behind the curve, and sat down in one of the leather chairs, waiting for his Prince.

It was a long ten minutes before Schneizel, being escorted by two female attendants, entered the room. While passing time, the affectionate aid curled his hair around his finger slowly and watched it unravel. It left a permanent wave in the flimsy strand before falling back into place.

The door opened with a sudden jerk, making the royal aid jump in his seat as a tired and frazzled Schneizel strode into the room with an air of importance around him. Kanon stood up, brushed off his pants in the process and waved the two attendants away. His emerald eyes narrowed slightly at them.

"Kanon," Schneizel commanded. His voice was soft and tired, which confused the man being addressed for a long second. His senses came back to him, and he walked over, took his Prince's heavy coat and layed it over a wooden chair.

"Water, please." He did as he was told. The water was drained in one gulp, and Kanon took the glass from Schneizel's hands accordingly.

It was always like this. Every single night. Upon realizing his infatuation with the Britannian Prince, Kanon realized just as quickly how futile his feelings were in comparison to the responsibilities the blond man carried on his shoulders. Those feelings - dashed many years ago - had a habit of springing up again at times when their intimacy peaked; and as an aid and a Prince, would lead to many unspoken things. Kanon prided himself in keeping such thoughts low key while working, even as he helped Schneizel remove his blouse and gloves slowly.

The night rode on, the sky once beautifully lit up with coarse reds and pinks had faded into a dark abyss only distinguishable by the crescent moon, which hung low in the sky as if undecided as where it should be – high up with the sun or as low as the gurgling ocean. Far off in the distance, birds called out to one another. It made the low-key setting inside the dimly lit hotel room calm and composed.

Schneizel layed on his bed like a king and Kanon sat on an adjacent chair, waiting and anticipating. The two were not looking at each other. Abruptly, the blond prince spoke. "Kanon," the rumble in his voice triggered something deep within the aid's mind. He stayed silent; "Do you know what it means to be an aid?"

Seconds passed as Kanon rolled the question over in his head. "It is to help the ones that need helping, to give them assistance." He thought the question was well answered; however Schneizel quickly made a tight fist with the comforter in his grasp, but released it just as quickly. Kanon felt his body become stiff.

"If that is true," Schneizel spoke slowly, as if talking to a child, "Then why are you aiding me?" He turned over on the comforter, and his eyes locked with an emerald pair that glimmered with anticipation. Kanon shifted nervously, his heartbeat quickening the longer the Britannian prince looked at him.

"I don't expect you to answer, for all you were told was to help me with menial things." An ache formed within the aid's cavity, "What about the people that need help? What of them? They send you to aid me, but then they don't bother with the ones that truly need it. Disgusting."

Each word hurt more than the last. Kanon stood up abruptly, for even the Prince gave him a questioning stare at his action, "Forgive me, my Prince." It was all he could muster without showing any emotion.

"It is not your fault."

"Then whose?"

"The ones who told you it was a worthwhile occupation." Schneizel sat up, his body supported on one arm while the other toyed with his bottom lip. He prodded it as he spoke; "You would do wonders on the front lines. You would be able to make a difference, yet they placed you here with me." He met eyes once again with the emerald pair, which now was on level with his. They smiled at him, showing raw emotions not masked by a front lacking any preference.

"I do not mind." Kanon spoke softly, his breath rustling golden threads that covered calm, cool blue eyes. As cool as the midnight ocean. "I enjoy my work with you, Prince Schneizel. It gives me a reason to wake up in the morning." Kanon raised a pale hand and layed it over an angular jawline, tracing the flawless skin with his index and middle finger. He leaned over and kissed his Prince's chin, quickly, and leaned back to observe his expression.

It had not changed. Not a single muscle had moved, but yet now he felt a new, more dangerous stare being directed at him. In the low light, the shadows on his face made his cheeks sink in, his face aging dramatically.

"A reason to wake up in the morning? That's not like you, Kanon." The words were cold, but the sudden hand on his thigh was scorching. "Are you implying something?"

"Not at all." Kanon smiled; it was small and shy. He shifted closer to his prince and laid his head in the dip of his collarbone, taking in the strong scent of lavender. "I was merely stating what I believed to be a fact, sir." Their closeness was what the aid cherished. He could feel a heartbeat thump rhythmically on his cheek, and it soothed his worries. He began kissing the exposed neck, and he felt the grip on his thigh tighten the longer he went on. When he stopped, the grip loosened.

"Your fact is my fiction. Whether or not you stand on any ground, I always have the right to oppose it. Or in this case," The well-placed hand began kneading the thigh beneath it, "I can also have a right to agree."

Kanon wasn't sure of the context of the words, but it didn't matter. Words did not matter at the moment. Only demanding hands and soft butterfly kisses were wanted – no – _needed_ now. He would think about those mysterious words tomorrow.

Another time, another place, another life.


	11. Bullets Can Kill Angels

A/N: _Sorry for the long leave! Life was biting at my heels and I had to put it in its' place. ;)_

* * *

**Bullets Can Kill Angels  
**_By: Ryocha_

Marianne's luscious black tresses were one of the many things that I clearly remember her for. When I was alone in my quarters, where the only sounds being made were from my body and the clock overhead, I would close my eyes and fall into a trance. In this transe, I would see her standing in front of me. Her expression would be one of humour as she observes my young and naïve face. Her eyes twinkle, and for a second I feel as though we are the only ones existing on the earth at that moment. However, the moment blows by like the soft breeze that pushes her daintily down to the next soldier, repeating the same process she did to me, as well as the eighteen previous soldiers whom had just joined her Guard.

It had been love at first sight. Her eyes, he made himself believe, rested a little bit longer over his face than the others. His heart beat as though he has completed the foot soldier marathon in under a minute, his eyes stung from not blinking at her perfect form; her fingers were toying with curly raven locks which spilled over her shoulders like a stilled waterfall. Offsetting her hair was her skin, pale and porcelain; so pale that the sun itself wouldn't dare to touch it and a voice that sounded as if a choir of angels produced it. She spoke quietly, but surely. When she smiled, only the crooks of her mouth turned upwards, as if too polite to show her happiness as she spoke to her Knight. How it must feel, to be the Knight of the gorgeous Marianne…

In all his years training in the Britannian army academy, under many men and women alike, Jeremiah Gottwald was never taught how to combat love at first sight.

She had only been passing by him briefly as she surveyed and approved of the newbies entering her Guard, but he couldn't help but think that her stare meant more than it should have.

Jeremiah's thoughts of her would carry with him throughout the day. Her charming laughter would ring out above the commotion in the busy hallways and gave strength to all her dedicated workers. That's how Jeremiah pictured it. His golden eyes twinkled as he worked inside his Knightmare, configuring the customized unit to his specifications and inputting his identity with ease.

But that very same day, where not a bad thought in the world occupied a person's mind, events would took place that would steal away the quirky smile, the adorned ruby eyes and everything else Jeremiah loved about Marianne. From inside his Knightmare's cockpit, he heard a round of bullets being fired somewhere deep inside the castle.

At first, he thought nothing of it. Those sorts of sounds were commonplace on the battlefield… and then it dawned on him. This wasn't the battlefield.

His feet flew up a slew of narrow staircases and agonizingly long corridors, threatening to steal his breath away from him but never quite getting the better of him. Cries were lodged in his throat, unable to release themselves from the deep cavern. They even stayed silent upon reaching his destination; he was met with cold murder at his feet. Blood pooled at his feet.

It was his first realization upon entering the Britannian army.

Mere bullets could kill angels.


End file.
